


the ache is getting colder

by fuckstyles



Category: One Direction
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bullying, M/M, Underage - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:46:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckstyles/pseuds/fuckstyles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Liam is kicking a football in the backyard with Louis when he meets the new boy. New Boy has dark, defiant eyes and he looks about ready for a fight, but Liam is first struck by how beautiful the boy is, even with the purpling bruise on his jaw. Liam knows that there’s probably more underneath his clothes. Boys don’t come to the group home for no reason. "</p><p>an au where Zayn's angry and Liam wishes he wasn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the ache is getting colder

**Author's Note:**

> okay. new fic! I love angst for some reason, so sorry for this. the title is from the song forget me knots by heathers. enjoy!

Liam is kicking a football in the backyard with Louis when he meets the new boy. New Boy has dark, defiant eyes and he looks about ready for a fight, but Liam is first struck by how beautiful the boy is, even with the purpling bruise on his jaw. Liam knows that there’s probably more underneath his clothes. Boys don’t come to the group home for no reason.

           

“I’m Zayn,” New Boy says in a low voice, and Liam strains to hear him. “Paul said one of you would show me around.”

           

Liam jumps at the chance to spend more time with the boy, and offers, perhaps a little too eagerly, “I’ll show you around. I’m Liam.”

 

Louis gives a heavy sigh at this, kicking the ball back at Liam with more force than is probably necessary. “We’re doing something, new kid. Come back later.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Zayn says sharply, and Liam hears the dangerous edge to his tone.  Apparently, so does Louis, because he raises his hands in a gesture of peace. He talks a big game, but he’s not a fighter.

 

“Hey, easy, kid. I’m Louis. We’ll show you around.”

   **       

 

Zayn has to room with Liam, Paul says, because there isn’t anywhere else to put him.  Paul says that he knows, and that he’s sorry, that he wouldn’t make Liam share a room unless it was absolutely necessary.  And it’s not that Liam doesn’t like Zayn. He _really_ likes Zayn, but he doesn’t feel safe sleeping if someone else is in the room.  Paul _knows_ that.

 

Nevertheless, Zayn ends up dragging a worn down suitcase up the stairs to the middle level of the house.  He knocks softly on Liam’s door, says, “I know you don’t wanna live with me. It’s not like I asked to be here, Liam.”

 

“Come in,” Liam says as he forces himself to smile. He doesn’t want Zayn to get the impression that he’s not liked. He knows it’s hard the first few days, and he wants to make the transition as easy as possible for Zayn, the way Louis did for Liam at first. “You can take the other bed, and you can put whatever you want in the dresser.”

 

Zayn makes up the bed with the sheets Liam brought him from the laundry room.  He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t unpack.

 **

 

Dinner is always chaotic at the home, with ten growing boys arguing over who gets the last chicken wing or who ate more than their fair share. Ten different voices shouting across the room at each other, either in anger or excitement. In most cases, Liam finds, the shouting is done in anger. He supposes that they all have a lot to be angry about.

 

Dinner tonight is even worse than usual because there’s an eleventh boy now added to the mix.  Worse, he’s new, which means everyone has lots of different question they want to ask.

 

“Whereabouts are you from?” Aiden asks politely, passing Zayn the basket of hot rolls after he takes one himself. 

 

“Bradford,” Zayn answers quietly, his silence almost a dare for someone to make a snotty comment.

 

“Aw, sick! I’m from Yorkshire myself, mate,” Louis says, pushing Niall’s greasy hands away from his plate.  “Niall, you’ve got your own food. Finish your plate first and if you’re still hungry I’ll let you finish my burger.”

 

Liam knows that Louis is skinnier than he should be, knows that before Louis came here he had four younger sisters to provide and care for. His parents were pretty negligent. It’s in Louis’ nature to put the younger ones before himself, and if that means he doesn’t have a full belly at the end of the night, he’s okay with that. It’s not necessary, Liam knows, because there’s plenty of food to go around, but it makes Louis feel needed.

 

“’Kay, Lou.” Niall tears through the rest of his burger, steals some fries off of Harry’s plate. He quickly polishes off the rest of Louis’ burger.

 

“Did you get in a fight? How come your face looks like that?” Harry asks Zayn, shoving fries into his mouth as he does so.

 

“Harry!” Paul scolds. “You know better.”

 

“Well, if he did get in a fight it sure looks like he lost,” Nick stage-whispers to Tom.  The two boys laugh quietly. It’s clear to Liam that Zayn hears this, because the boy’s jaw tightens, and he clenches his fork tighter in his fist.

 

“Shut it, Nick. You wouldn’t know shit about a fair fight anyway!” Louis bursts.

 

“Yeah, you even pick on Harry, and he’s just a baby!” Ed points out, and Nick scowls at the redhead. Harry shakes his head wildly. He’s five, but he’s not a baby.

 

“Everybody needs to stop before I start to send some people to their rooms,” Paul warns, and the table falls silent. Nobody wants to miss out on their free time. “Okay, Nick, Louis, and Ed, you’re on dish duty tonight.”

 **

 

Nick shoves Zayn into the sink that night in the bathroom, when no one but Liam is around.  If Liam were someone like Louis, he would have found the courage to say something.  He would have found the courage to pick Zayn up from the floor and hit Nick back, but Liam’s not brave.  He’s not Louis, and Nick scares him. Nick broke Louis’ finger, and Louis is a whole year older than Liam. If Nick could hurt Louis like that, Liam doesn’t want to imagine what could happen to him if he tries to defend himself. So Liam continues to brush his teeth, pretends not to see as Zayn pulls himself off the bathroom floor.  He can’t continue to ignore it, however, when Zayn reels back and throws a fist into Nick’s smiling face.

 

 “You don’t get to hit me,” Zayn spits as Nick cradles his face in his hand. “Nobody gets to hit me anymore.”  And holy shit, because Zayn is about a whole two feet shorter than Nick, and a hell of a lot younger, too.

 

Nick storms out of the bathroom, but Liam knows that the boy isn’t stupid enough to tell Paul.  He’d have to admit that he started the fight, and Liam knows he doesn’t want to get grounded just before the weekend.

 

“He won’t tell,” Liam says feebly, both a little impressed and a little intimidated by Zayn’s temper.

 

“Wouldn’t care if he did,” Zayn replies hotly. He won’t meet Liam’s eyes.

 

“Good on you. You know, for hitting him. I’ve never done that, not even when he hit me first.”

 

“Don’t tell Paul I hit him,” Zayn says in a voice that is trying to sound intimidating but ends up coming across as nervous.

 

Liam nods.

 **

 

Paul gives Zayn the following Friday off school to get adjusted to the new living arrangement.  His social worker will be coming over to discuss things while all the other boys are at school.  He’ll start school on the following Monday, and he’ll be in Grade 6 with Liam and Aiden.

 

Liam hopes he’ll make some friends. From what he’s seen of Zayn at the home, the boy isn’t the most personable or approachable.  He’s overly defensive, and Liam is actually a little bit scared of him, if he’s honest.  He hasn’t gotten more than 5 hours of sleep since Zayn moved into his room with him.  It doesn’t feel safe. It never feel safe to sleep if he can hear someone else breathing.

 

Zayn’s social worker Louise shows up Friday morning at 9 am, holding a duffel bag full of Zayn’s remaining belongings. Paul gestures for Louise to come sit in the main room alongside Zayn on the couch.  “So, Zayn,” Louise begins cheerfully, “how do you think you’re fitting in here at Mr. Higgin’s house?”

 

“Good.”

 

“Yeah? Care to elaborate?” Louise prompts.

 

“I get three meals, and a bed, and nobody bad-touches me. Can you tell me about my sisters now?” Zayn rushes, eager to hear news about the three people he hasn’t seen in a while.

 

“They’re all fine, Zayn. I talked to each of their social workers only yesterday. They’re all okay, I promise.  They miss you. Perhaps we need to organize some sort of visit between the four of you. I’ll get on that. Right now, though, what you need to be focusing on is staying out of trouble. I trust he’s been well-behaved, Mr. Higgins?”

 

Paul nods. “It’s fine to call me Paul. And yes, I’d say Zayn has been very well behaved. I think we’re all really taking well to having him here with us.”

 

“Alright, well, that’s all I need for today. As is protocol, I’ll be checking in over the next few months of your stay-“

 

“Months?” Zayn interrupts incredulously. He’d thought for sure that his mother would be better by now, that he and his sisters would all be back home safe by the end of year at the very least.

 

“You’re mother’s in rehab, honey. We’ve been over this.  Recovery doesn’t happen overnight. I wish it worked that way. I wish I had better news for you. But this does seem to be a good fit, so you’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future. Paul’s taken good care of you, you’re certainly more well fed than the last time I saw you.”

 

“Yes, but-“

 

“Goodbye, love. Paul has my number if you need to call me.  I have other cases I need to see to today, but I’ll see the two of you at some point next week.” Louise tucks a strand of purple hair behind her ear, and leans down to give Zayn a kiss on his cheek. She’s only been his social worker for a little over six months, but he’s grown oddly attached to her. She’s the one constant he’s had in his life since his mom overdosed on painkillers. He supposes that’s a little sad.

 

As Paul walks her out, Zayn disappears upstairs. He doesn’t want to talk. He hardly ever does.

 **

 

“How long have you been here?” Zayn asks Liam quietly that night, just after Paul has come in to enforce lights out.

 

“In foster care, three years, since I was nine. At Paul’s, probably closer to a year now,” answers Liam, choosing not to comment on the fact that this is the first conversation Zayn has ever willingly engaged him in.

 

“Don’t you think you’ll ever get adopted?”

 

“I’m too messed up. Plus, I’m too old now. Not cute enough anymore. That’s what happens; you’re young, and cute, and people love you at first, but then you piss the bed or you have a panic attack and they start to realize that you’re not as cute as they first thought. That’s why I’m with Paul. That’s why everyone’s with Paul. We’re past our prime.”

 

Zayn wonders how Liam can be so passive about it, so accepting and resigned and tired sounding. Zayn didn’t sound like that before his mom overdosed, before he entered foster care. He wonders if he sounds like that now.

 


End file.
